


We Pick Ourselves Undone

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Kissing, M/M, brief descriptions of blood and gore, spoilers for chapter 59
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:43:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1916751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren and Armin have a moment to themselves after they've rescued Eren and Historia from Rod Reiss' clutches.</p>
<p>(spoilers for chapter 59)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Pick Ourselves Undone

**Author's Note:**

> i really, really wanted to write weepy eremins. i, uh, haven't written romance in forever, so i hope this is okay.
> 
> (title from 'flaws' by bastille)

They didn’t have time for emotions when they first saw each other, but now that everyone’s safe (as safe as they can be when they’re all on the run and at risk of being discovered at any moment) and out of immediate danger, now that the adrenaline is starting to ebb out of their systems and leave only exhaustion behind, _now_ it is safe to have and express their feelings.

Armin and Mikasa immediately latch on to Eren, squishing him in between their two bodies in a tight hug. He stumbles back for a second, startled, then regains his composure and manages to free his arms enough to hug them back. After a moment, Mikasa releases him, but Armin’s arms remain latched around his torso as if his life depends on it. Mikasa gives him a significant look, and then heads inside to join the others.

“Uh, Armin?” Eren says carefully when Armin still hasn’t untangled himself a few seconds later. “Is…everything okay? Did something happen?” Armin’s nose digs a little more into the crook of his neck, and something that feels suspiciously like hot tears dampens his skin. “Hey, hey, I’m right here, what is it?” Eren says soothingly, mind racing to figure out what the problem is and how to make it not a problem anymore.

“We…tried a rescue mission,” Armin says so quietly that Eren has to strain himself to hear it, “…earlier.”

Eren urges him to continue, carefully maneuvering their bodies to sit next to each other under a tree a short distance away.  Armin carefully, reluctantly, lets go of the hug, though he keeps one of Eren’s hands clasped firmly in his own clammy one and rests his head against Eren’s shoulder.

“When they were transporting you and Historia in the,” Armin pauses, and Eren can feel his face contorting into a look of intense displeasure, “ _coffins_. We were going to rescue you then, before they could take you back to their base.”

Eren stills. He remembers being trapped in that coffin, bound and gagged and so horribly helpless and unable to see what was happening outside. There’d been some sort of commotion, he recalls, and realizes it must’ve been the failed rescue attempt.

“I think I remember that,” he says. “Was I hearing…gunshots?” Armin’s grip around his hand tightens, and he knows he’s correct.

“They had this strange maneuver gear,” Armin says, voice distant like he’s reliving the scenario. “Instead of swords, they had guns. They could shoot and use the maneuver gear _at the same time_ , Eren,” Armin says, distress clear in his voice. Eren understands his concern; it truly is a terrifying thought to imagine enemies with the intent to kill coming after him with guns and maneuver gear.

“I was driving the getaway cart,” Armin continues, “and Jean was in the back with a gun and orders to shoot back at those firing at us from the roof and to kill anyone who might interfere.” Eren frowns; Jean’s more privileged and sheltered upbringing hadn’t been a secret back in training and he had no doubts that Jean had not been okay with those orders. He hopes Jean didn’t have to actually carry out those orders; he’s a dick but the trauma of killing someone isn’t something Eren wants any of his friends to undergo.

“This woman dropped down on me out of nowhere, with a gun aimed right at my face. Mikasa kicked her away, but,” Armin swallows deeply, “she ended up in the back of the cart and managed to disarm Jean before holding him at gunpoint. I…” Armin’s breath hitches, and he squeezes Eren’s hand tightly for support. “I panicked for a second,” he admits, “All I could think of was Trost, when you were right in front of me but I was too slow to save you. So…I did the only logical thing, and shot her before she could shoot Jean.” Eren can see the scene playing out in front of his eyes all to easily. Jean, weaponless and cornered. Mikasa, too far away to help. Armin, on his own and desperate to not lose another comrade. It would’ve been an easy enough action to perform in the midst of the fight with no time to truly think about the consequences, but…

“I blew her head open,” Armin says blankly. “There was blood everywhere. Some of it got on my cloak,” he murmurs, and Eren realizes that _that’s_ where the blood splatter he’d noticed earlier came from. “I think some of her brains even got on Jean. And the worst part?” He laughs bitterly, “I only got the shot in because _she hesitated_. I didn’t hesitate at all, I just shot her right in her head.”

Before Armin can continue, Eren pulls him into a hug, burying his face in his long golden strands. Armin smells faintly of smoke, sweat, pine trees, and dirt, but Eren knows he doesn’t smell much better. “Quiet,” he says, “You did what you had to do, and horseface is still with us today because of that. I’m not going to let you put yourself down for making a hard decision.”

“I know,” Armin says, “Levi told me, and _I know_ , but…” his shoulders start shaking with sobs, “I still feel so _guilty!_ ” Eren plants a kiss on top of Armin’s head, whispering quiet reassurances in his ear. “I _killed_ her, Eren. _I_ _killed someone_.”

Eren holds Armin close as he cries and lets all of his pent-up emotions out. The physical contact doesn’t just help Armin, though. Eren’s always been an extremely tactile person, and with Armin being his oldest friend he’s never felt any reason to hold back. The sensation of another person’s skin (skin that doesn’t belong to an enemy, that is) against his own calms him deeply. He’s safe (for now), he’s with friends, and Historia slit Rod Reiss’ throat.

There’s nothing to worry about at this moment in time except for Armin, and there are few things in this world that Eren knows better than the subject of Armin. He might even wager that he knows Armin better than he knows himself, given the terrifying gaps in his memory and his nature as a titan shifter. Right now Armin knows that he’s okay, knows that he’s not to blame, and knows that he’s responsible for saving his friend’s life, but he doesn’t _believe_ it. Getting him to _believe_ it is going to take Eren’s help.

“You’re going to be fine,” he says over and over again, “you did the right thing,” he presses innumerable kisses into Armin’s hair, on Armin’s forehead, on Armin’s nose, on Armin’s cheeks, “you saved Jean.”

Armin’s sobs start to peter out eventually, and though he sniffles and his face is red and there’s snot dripping from his nose, Eren can tell that he feels better now. He just needed a shoulder to cry on and someone to tell him that everything would be all right. If he knew Mikasa, she’d definitely tried, but Mikasa spoke better through her actions than with her mouth. She knew how to comfort Armin with a touch on the shoulder or the occasional hug, but words of comfort often eluded her. But that’s okay, because Eren can do that. The three of them compliment each other like that.

“…Thanks,” Armin says eventually, in a quiet, hoarse voice.

Eren sees him biting his lip, remembers how raw it was earlier (no doubt Armin’s been gnawing on it nonstop since he got kidnapped), and barely spares a moment to think, ‘ _I can fix that_ ,’ before he leans over and gives Armin a soft, chaste kiss on his lips.

“No problem,” he says, pulling back. Armin’s eyes are wide and his cheeks are red, but he doesn’t look angry. In fact, he blinks, seems to collect his courage, then leans over and kisses Eren back.

With nothing more than their faces and hands touching, they spend the next few minutes in a kiss-filled haze. Well, until it abruptly starts to rain. The chill water shocks them back to reality. Armin giggles, sounding a little breathless, and gets to his feet. He holds out a hand to pull Eren up; Eren takes it, his darker skin contrasting against Armin’s pale fingers. They hold hands as they dash towards the dilapidated barn (where they won’t be much drier, but any shelter at all is better than being out in the rain). When they enter, Mikasa looks up from where she is repairing the holes in her shirt from where one of Reiss’ goons had managed to nick her.

“Is everything okay?” she asks. Eren and Armin share a look, grinning softly.

“Yeah,” Armin says with a twinkle back in his eyes that Eren hasn’t seen since before Trost. “Everything will be fine.”

They might not be totally okay at the moment, but they’ve got each other, and together, they can manage anything.

**Author's Note:**

> if historia doesn't slit rod reiss' throat by the end of this series i'm gonna be so fucking pissed


End file.
